


Clandestine

by yespolkadot_kitty



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, just a late night brainfart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 04:50:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11684430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: Two strangers in a bar......





	Clandestine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thymelady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymelady/gifts).



> Something I wrote inspired by the fic One Last Fling by Thymelady.

Abbie spied him across the crowded bar, cutting a fine figure in the dark grey suit, the white shirt flirting between the lapels of the jacket. The material is open at the neck, revealing a tempting glimpse of curling chest hair.

 

His burnt-honey hair curled around his face of planes and angles, thick as a lion’s mane, and likely softer.

 

He looked her way, and her stomach muscles clenched at the dark, underwater-cave blue of his eyes. Some lower muscles clenched, too.

 

She sipped her drink and turned away towards the huge, floor-to-ceiling windows this bar boasted. It was new in Sleepy Hollow, a venture Abbie had worried would be too hip for the small town, but it was proving a hit so far. She held a twist on an Old Fashioned in her hand, the asian honey lending it a kick. It went down smoothly.

 

Would the man across the room taste as good?

 

Something moved in the edge of her vision and she looked up to see him beside her.

 

“Enjoying the view?” she asked idly.

 

“Very much.” But his eyes were on her face.

 

She’d taken time with her appearance tonight - sleeked her hair, worn her favourite berry-red dress, with a nipped in waist and a big skirt. She knew she looked smokin’. Still, it was nice to be told, wasn’t it?

 

He started to say something, then seemed to think better of it, adding a few moments later, “What’s your poison?”

 

She lifted her drink. “Old fashioned with a twist. It’s not my usual, but…” she let her gaze linger on his face. “I think I like it. You?”

 

He turned the bottle he held to show the label of a local brewery. “This is rather a gem, I think, found right here.” His gaze held hers for a hot second. “I must say I’m tempted to find out more about it.”

 

Abbie hid her smile in the rim of her glass. The alcohol had warmed her up considerably. Her job with the FBI could be pretty damn dry at times. It was time to cut loose. “What would you like to know?”

 

He held out a hand. “Perhaps we could start with names? I’m Ichabod Crane.”

 

She gave him her hand, surprised when rather than shaking it, he pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles.

 

“Abbie Mills.”

 

He took another pull on his beer and she watched the muscles in his throat as he swallowed. Her own mouth felt suddenly dry. 

 

“And where might I find you, when you aren’t a vision in red?” Ichabod asked.

 

“I’m in the FBI.”

 

“Law enforcement.” His brow quirked up along with a quick, vaguely naughty smile. She liked it. “I should perhaps watch my step.”

 

“I’ll tell you if you overstep the mark.” She glanced around the bar. The band was hotting up, and there was nothing she hated more than dancing - okay, maybe organised dancing. Give her a lone bar and a cocktail any time. “So…. you wanna get out of here?”

 

He held out one hand, smiling, cuff style. “Anything you say, officer.”

 

That surprised a laugh out of her. “Actually, it’s agent, but that doesn’t have nearly as nice a ring to it.”

 

****

 

They made small talk on the cab ride home. Where they were from, parents, the possibility of mutual friends, their jobs. 

 

Abbie insisted on paying the driver, and when he dropped them off, she slid her key from the small purse that dangled at her shoulder. Rather self-consciously, she glanced at the tall Brit behind her. “I’ve never done this before.”

 

His smile was kind. “A night of firsts for us both.”

 

She let them in. The house was quiet around them, the only sounds the hum of the refrigerator and the low-speed ceiling fan she’d left on as the nights tended to be humid. 

 

“So, I, ah…”

 

He cupped a hand on her cheek and kissed her. Surprised, it took Abbie a moment to respond, but she opened to him. He tasted faintly of the beer he’d imbibed earlier, with a hint of coffee. He smelled of woodsmoky aftershave, and she breathed in deeply, letting her tongue tangle with his. Letting herself delight in this.

 

Ichabod pulled back after the kiss turned fiery, searching her face in the semi darkness. Moonlight flooded in through the half-closed window blinds behind them, providing a soft glow.

 

“Drink?” she offered, a bit hesitant.

 

“Please.”

 

She led them both through to the kitchen, where the light on the stove blinked the late hour. Without turning on the light, she poured them both a single measure of the finest rum she had in the house. It was smooth and spicy. She handed it to him. His hands were beautiful, long fingers, wide palms. She looked forward to the feel of them on her skin. Soon.

 

She toasted him. “To firsts.”

 

Surprise flickered over his face, but a smile tugged at his gorgeous mouth. “To firsts.”

 

They drank.

 

Abbie set her glass aside on the counter, and after Ichabod did the same, he tipped her chin up with a finger. “You may change your mind, whenever you wish, you know. The course is not set.”

 

His words warmed her. “I want this. I want you.”

 

With a low growl of pleasure, he captured her mouth again, kissing her so fiercely she felt dizzy from it. His tongue toyed with hers, brushing the sensitive roof of her mouth. Then he pulled back, nipping at her lips.

 

His hands stroked her back and one snaked around to her front. His hot palm slid up her ribcage and brushed her breast lightly. Even through the fabric of her bra, his touch set her senses ablaze.

 

“Venus, I have come to worship you,” he murmured. His gaze met hers and then dropped to watch his own hand fondle her nipple to a hard peak.

 

Ichabod gently pushed their empty glasses aside and then lifted her up to sit on the worktop, his heated breath fanning the sensitive skin of her neck and chest.

 

“Just a moment.” He quickly crossed to the sink and reached up to pull the cord that closed the venetian shutter style blinds. “No interruptions.” When he came back to her, he kissed her hotly, his hand once again stroking her breast until it felt full and heavy. “I’ve daydreamed about having you like this.”

 

This swarthy, heavenly package of a man had daydreamed about her? Abbie smiled against his neck. “You do wonders for my ego.”

 

“I do hope to stroke more than your ego.”

 

Her heart thumped. It felt like it was in her throat. She could only nod as he kissed her again, and taste of him running through her system like a drug. His nimble fingers started on the first button of her dress, revealing her skin.

 

He popped another button, and another, his eyes fixed on her breasts and the flesh he revealed. When he released the button covering her bra from its small eyelet, he filled his hands with her bra-covered breasts. “Divine.”

 

He met her gaze for a long, heated moment, and then bent to drop kisses along the top edges of her bra, his fingers stroking her nipples until they hardened to points, begging for more of his touch, begging for his lips.

 

He didn’t disappoint. First he continued his path of kisses over the flesh covered by her bra. Then he took one her left nipple, fabric and all, into his mouth, swiping his tongue over the sensitive peak until she cried out, her fingers clutching his hair.

 

All the while, sat on the worktop, she could feel the insistent bulge of his cock pressing against her, making her wet and wild for him, beyond any reason or hesitancy.

 

“I want to taste you without barriers,” he rasped, meeting her gaze, asking for her permission.

Giving it, Abbie reached around to her back and squeezed the strap of her bra, releasing the connection. 

 

Ichabod slid it off her shoulders and exposure to the air tightened her nipples. She didn’t have to worry about being cold for long. His mouth replaced the cool air, his tongue laving her right nipple and flicking it back and forth until she arched wantonly against him, squirming against the hard ridge of his erection, wanting to be closer to him.

 

“Just…. One moment.” Ichabod released her nipple. She looked at him askance as he opened the cupboard door to his left and took out a jar of chocolate sauce.

 

“What’s that for?”

 

He grinned at her, sex and temptation and desire all rolled into one amazing, six foot package. “Indulge a fantasy. Licking chocolate off you. May I?”

The erotic image that catapulted into Abbie’s head made a surge of wetness pool between her legs. Choked by need, unable to speak even to say yes, she nodded. 

 

He unscrewed the jar of chocolate sauce, his gaze burning into hers. “I’ve always had a... sweet tooth.” He dipped his finger in and it came out with a smear of sauce in the end. Rubbing this on her nipple, he then bent and sucked her into his mouth, his tongue working to remove the sauce. “Hmmm. It tastes even better on you. As I knew it would.”

 

Dizzy and breathless, Abbie could only whisper, “more, I want more.”

 

“And you’ll have it. As if I could deny you anything, Treasure.” He repeated the process on her other nipple, and then smeared the sweet sauce on the slope of her breasts, too, licking it off, heightening her desire.

 

When he’d had his fill of licking the sauce from her nipples, now hardened to aching peaks, he cupped her face and kissed her deeply, and tenderly than before. “I’m going to take your dress off, now.”

 

She nodded her assent, her head fuzzy with want for him, with want for more. More kissing, more sensation. Her body hovered on the peak of orgasm, tilting on what felt like the edge of a precipice. 

 

Ichabod lifted her briefly from the worktop to slide her dress down her body. It slithered to the floor, forgotten.

 

“You’re wearing lace,” he breathed. 

 

“They were on sale,” she said without thinking.

 

“Praise the end of summer discount Gods,” he teased. “I thank them for letting me see this.”

He cupped her breast and toyed with the nipple. “I’ll buy you another hundred pairs. Tomorrow.”

 

Abbie was about to joke that she’d hold him to that, but then he cupped her between the legs with his free hand, and all thoughts flew from her head. Even through the lace of her underwear she felt the heat of his fingers as he stroked her along the seam of her nether lips.

 

“I wanted to spread chocolate on you here, too,” he murmured against her mouth, kissing her gently. “Will you let me?”

 

The idea turned her on so much that she knew he must feel how wet she was through the thin lace. She could only murmur her assent as he dropped a line of kisses down her neck and on to her shoulder.

She expected him to remove her panties then, but instead he just dipped his hand under the side of the lace, running his finger up and down the place where her intimate lips met, until she writhed against him. “Touch me, please.”

 

At her request, his finger finally parted her and stroked her over-sensitive labia and her swollen clitoris. Abbie bucked against him, demanding more. In response, he circled the tight bud, squeezing and rolling one of her nipples with his free hand until her breathing came in hot, harsh gasps.

 

Just as she climbed towards the dizzying peak, he withdrew his hand.

 

Bleary, she stared at him through a haze of want and need. “What…?”

 

Ichabod lifted the jar of sauce. “I would rather… get you there with my mouth.”

 

At his words, her orgasm hovered even nearer.

 

He hooked his fingers in the sides of her panties and Abbie lifted her hips slightly, enabling him to slip them off, where they landed on her dress, once again forgotten. Cool air touched her most intimate place, but before she could think about that feeling, he knelt before her, his mouth level with where she was aching and wet for him.

 

As she watched, totally transfixed, he parted her, his gaze drinking her in. He made her feel like the sexiest creature alive, and she revelled in it.

 

She sucked in a breath as he spread chocolate sauce on her swollen, aching clitoris, and on the pink flesh of her intimate folds. Setting the jar aside, he leaned close, pressed kisses on her inner thighs, and then he touched her with his tongue.

 

Long strokes and gentle flicks drove her mad. He teased her, licking off every smear of sauce, and tasting her when it was all gone. His tongue circled around and around the engorged button of her need, until she grasped at his hair. “Crane! Please!”

 

Finally, finally, he gave her what she wanted, caressing her with his tongue in long, slow strokes, focusing only on her clitoris, until she bucked hard against his mouth, waves of pleasure crashing over her again and again, until she whispered for him to stop, her body shaking with the aftershocks of an earth-shattering orgasm.

 

Ichabod stood and took her in his arms. “I knew you would taste better than chocolate.” 

 

He kissed her, and she tasted herself. She pulled back and smiled at him, feeling wanton, feeling wicked. This man  had given her the best orgasm of her life, now it was only fair that she be so good as to return the favour. “Take me to bed.”

 

***

 

Afterwards, as they lie next to each other, Ichabod turned to press a kiss to  Abbie’s bare shoulder. “Well, I think that went rather well, don’t you?”

 

She snorted. “You ruined it when you reached into the cupboard for the Nutella.”

 

“You can’t mean to tell me you didn’t enjoy that.”

 

She laughed into his hair. “You know I did, you oaf. But we were supposed to be strangers! You aren’t supposed to know where we keep stuff.”

 

He sniffed. “I thought it was rather inspired, actually.”

 

Laughing, Abbie leaned into him. “It was definitely one of your more inventive ideas.” She nipped at his bottom lip. “And what was that in the bar?  _ Anything you say, officer. _ ” She grinned into the half-darkness of the room.

 

Ichabod laughed along with her. “This is our first time. You said you’d be gentle.”

 

She peeked up at him with interest. “So you liked it? You’d do it again - the roleplay thing?”

 

“I would.”

 

She cuddled into him, sighing happily. The room settled around them, decorated in pale grey tones. The bits and pieces of their married life kept them warm here; the drawer where Abbie kept her face cream and a few polaroids of her and Jenny; the shelf where Ichabod’s leather-bound classics stood.

 

“Maybe we could pretend to be secret agents next time,” she said sleepily.

 

He kissed her hair. “Steady on.”

 

“Or you could be on the run. I could capture you.”

 

He chuckled, his own eyes closing, ready for sleep. “I’d put up quite the fight, Lieutenant.”

 

“I'm counting on it.”

 

They slid into sleep together, the house quiet and still around them.

  
  



End file.
